A Court for Thieves

  Angelica couldn’t see what it was Sebastian saw in her. She had nothing, was nothing. Angelica could probably find a dozen girls as beautiful anywhere in Ashton she looked. She had no accomplishments. The fact that Sebastian was going after her was even more of an insult because of that.

  It was more than an insult—it was dangerous.

  Angelica could still remember kneeling on the floor of the Dowager’s rooms, listening to the old hag talking about the mask of lead as if it were nothing. Angelica didn’t know if she would make good on the threat, but she could remember the fear she’d felt at the time, the certainty that her life was about to end in the most horrific way possible.

  She’d said that she would do anything, and the Dowager had given her what had seemed like a simple enough task at the time: making sure that her son forgot all about Sophia. The Dowager would not be happy to learn that Angelica had failed to even keep Sebastian in the building.

  Angelica sat on one of the chairs in Sebastian’s rooms, trying to decide what she could do next. She didn’t panic. She refused to panic, because panicking was what silly, lesser girls did when faced with problems. Screaming and fainting had their place, but only as weapons to attract sympathy or attention, not as anything to be done when there was no one else around. Now was the time for sitting quietly, considering the implications, and then acting.

  Should she run? The idea of it seemed ludicrous, yet if she was about to incur the Dowager’s wrath, maybe it was the only option available to her. If Angelica could make it out into the country, far enough ahead of any pursuers… no, that wouldn’t work. There was nowhere that the Dowager’s influence couldn’t reach within her kingdom, even if some parts were usually outside her attention.

  Abroad, then? Angelica could take what she needed and leave, going across the Knifewater or out to one of the colonies, near or far. The difficulty with that was that there would be nothing waiting for her. Her father had business interests abroad, but Angelica would effectively be starting with nothing. She had no wish to do that.

  That left effectively one option: she had to kill Sophia.

  The thought sat in her mind as coolly as a stone, and Angelica was a little surprised by how calmly she considered it. She had done other, lesser things in the past, of course. She had drugged rivals and embarrassed them, used secrets to control others and bought debts simply so that she could destroy those she needed to. Murder, though… until now, it had always seemed like some line that could never be crossed.

  But what alternative was there? She could find another way to get rid of the girl, but then Sebastian would probably keep searching after her. She could hope that he didn’t find her, but that might take years. No, Angelica needed something decisive. Something that couldn’t be traced to her, of course, but something final, after which Sebastian might run to her in his grief.

  Angelica stood, a little surprised with herself. If she’d known that plotting murder would be this straightforward, perhaps she would have done it years ago.

  She just needed to find Sophia before Sebastian did.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  They pressed on quickly after the inn, with Sophia glancing behind them every so often to make sure no one would follow once they’d found their bravery at the bottom of a beer flagon.

  There was no sign of anybody following, though. Maybe they’d decided that the young man at the inn had deserved everything that had happened to him. More likely, Sophia guessed, they simply didn’t want to risk the trouble. She had no illusions about what kind of world this was. In her experience, people cared a lot less about justice than they did about their own safety.

  What did it say, that this was such a cruel place? Sophia couldn’t help wondering if it was the result of the wars, or the kind of example the royal court set, or something else. Maybe the whole world was like this, and people everywhere sought to take advantage of those weaker than them. Sophia hoped not, but she wasn’t sure that her hopes could change things for anyone. Her hopes hadn’t been able to make things work with Sebastian, or secure her a place at Ashton’s court.

  Perhaps they could lead her to her parents’ home, though, and provide some answers to the things that still lived on in her dreams. She had more memories than Kate of the things that had happened when they were children, but it had still taken Laurette van Klet to tell her who her parents even were.

  “How much further do you think it is?” Cora asked, as the cart continued to roll along roads that had obviously been washed out at some point and then only haphazardly replaced.

  That was hard to say, because Sophia didn’t know exactly where it was they were going. It seemed that they’d gone through more landscape than could ever exist, and she knew that Cora felt the same way after the city. Only Emeline seemed at ease with it all, seeming to enjoy the wide spaces and the freedom they offered.

  “It can’t be too much further,” Sophia said. “The last people we asked said that we couldn’t be more than a day from Monthys.”

  “We still have to find the estate once we get there,” Emeline pointed out, although she seemed happy enough about the prospect of it. Sophia knew how eager she was to get there so that they could go and look for Stonehome.

  “We will,” Sophia said. She tried to sound more confident than she felt. Even though they’d already come all this way, it still felt a little unreal, as if it were impossible to risk dreaming that they might actually find the spot they sought.

  Then the cart rolled up to the crest of a hill, and Sophia saw it.

  At least, she saw something. It was still away in the distance, worked sandstone standing out against the sky as the afternoon sun caught it. There were hills all around, and forests that seemed to stretch out like a carpet in between sloping fields more suited to grazing sheep than anything.

  Was it a great house, an old castle, or something else? At this distance, it was impossible to make out any real details of it, and yet Sophia felt herself drawn to stare at it there, feeling a connection to it even though she couldn’t say exactly what, or why.

  “There,” Cora said. “It’s actually there.”

  Even Emeline seemed pleasantly surprised by the sight of it. “We actually did it.”

  Sophia wanted to nod, but she’d already seen what lay between the hill they were on and the road that led into the trees, toward the estate. The ground seemed to break apart like a wound there, a gorge splitting the greenery with a stretch of gaping darkness.

  “Perhaps we can go around,” Emeline said, but the gorge seemed to be so long that it would take them a day out of their way in any direction to do it, even if they could find a way through the rough landscape.

  A slender white line across the gorge seemed to offer a sliver of hope.

  “There,” Sophia said, “a bridge. If we hurry, we can make it across before darkness falls.”

  Sophia urged the horses toward it, the cart moving forward as they pulled. The road was smooth here, and they made swift progress down toward the spot where the bridge sat. Sophia was grateful for that. She wanted to make it to her parents’ lands before they stopped for the night, even if she doubted that they could go all the way to the stone structure she’d seen in one go.

  As they got closer to the bridge, Sophia started to get more of a sense of the scale of it. It was huge, crafted in white marble, wide enough that two carts could have fit on it side by side. That was just as well, because there were spots where the stone seemed to be crumbling from lack of attention, with holes in the surface that would take every inch of the available space to steer around.

  They rolled out onto it with Sophia steering, Emeline and Cora jumping down to both lighten the load and allow them to spot crumbling sections of stonework. There were plenty of those, and Sophia found herself holding her breath as she crossed.

  The whole thing looked so ancient that it might have been built before the kingdom came into being. Certainly before the Dowager’s ancestors rose to the throne. M
ost of it seemed to fit together seamlessly, and now Sophia started to see the spots where cannon had done what time couldn’t, taking chunks out of the bridge in the course of some forgotten battle. Sophia felt one of the cart’s wheels start to fall into one of the holes, and she urged the horses to the left, hoping that she had reacted quickly enough. Here on the bridge, she doubted that she and the others would be able to pull it out.

  The horses complained at the effort, but with a squeal of wood, the wheel popped clear. Sophia was more careful about the line she chose across the bridge then, the cart moving forward at barely more than a walking pace.

  By the time they reached the other side, the light was starting to fade, and Sophia felt more tired than she’d thought she might, after the concentration required on the bridge. Somehow, she didn’t feel as worried about the possibility of people following them here, either. The bridge felt like a boundary as much as a connection. As much as she wanted to get to her parents’ home, as much as she wanted to see it up close, she knew that wasn’t going to happen tonight.

  “We should camp here,” she said.

  ***

  They made camp on the edge of the trees, in a space near the road but sheltered from the sight of it so that they could set a fire. They were all too exhausted to hunt, so they ate trail rations and drank the little beer that hadn’t had them hiding in it. Sophia tossed Sienne scraps of meat and the forest cat seemed more than happy with them.

  Her stomach seemed less happy with it all, roiling at the taste of the food and making her gag. Sophia rose with difficulty, stumbling toward the edge of their campsite, because she didn’t want to throw up in front of the others.

  “Are you all right?” Cora asked.

  Sophia managed to nod. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “I’m just—”

  She had to stop speaking as another wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm her. Was there something wrong with the meat? She all but ran for the edge of the trees, managing to make it beyond their camp by a matter of strides before her stomach betrayed her and she crouched in the bushes, losing everything she’d eaten.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Emeline asked.

  “I’m fine,” Sophia said. “It must be something I’ve eaten.”

  Except that they’d all eaten the same things, and there was no sign of Cora or Emeline becoming sick. Sophia didn’t feel unwell either, except for the nausea and everything that went with it. If she were ill, wouldn’t she have felt something in the last few days? Wouldn’t there have been some build-up to this rather than this sudden and overwhelming sickness that felt like…

  …no, it couldn’t be, could it?

  Sophia stood there, trying to remember what she could of the methods wise women used for these things. The girls at the orphanage had chattered about such things as if they were worldly and knowledgeable, while the nuns had sometimes scared them with the certainty that they would know if they stepped beyond the bounds that had been set.

  There were herbs that reacted to the urine of pregnant women differently, weren’t there? Mother’s Sign and Clarrisent, although Sophia only knew what the first one looked like, having seen the small, feathery flowers once.

  She looked around for it, not even knowing for sure if it grew in woodlands. If she had any sense, she would call out for the others and ask for their help. She would send a message to Kate, and ask for her assistance in locating the herbs. She didn’t do either one, both because it felt as though she’d spent most of her life recently begging for others’ help and because she wanted to know for sure before she even thought about saying something.

  There was another reason too: this was hers. She didn’t want to have to share this moment.

  She kept searching, working her way through the nettles and the wildflowers, the moth-attracting mosses and the broad leaves of the trees. Finally, she saw something that looked as though it might be the right flower, although even then, how could she be sure?

  Right then, Sophia wished that she knew more. She wished that she had parents who could help her with it, or that she really was the noblewoman she’d pretended to be, surrounded by servants who might know what they were doing. She would even have settled for the knowledge of one of the nuns, and that was a more than desperate thought.

  She knew then that she needed the help of the others, but she hitched up her skirts first, standing over the herbs while she did what was necessary.

  “Cora, Emeline, help me please.” Sophia tried to make herself sound calm. She didn’t want to sound as though she was being attacked by bandits, or dying from some ague brought on by the food.

  Even so, they came running, hurrying through the trees as if they were certain that something awful had happened to Sophia. Perhaps it had, or something wonderful, or both. She wasn’t entirely certain what she felt in that moment, staring down at the leaves of the Mother’s Sign as they wilted in the way she’d been told they would.

  The two of them stared at her, obviously trying to work out what was going on. Sophia could even feel Emeline pushing at the edges of her thoughts, although Sophia didn’t let her penetrate any deeper than that. She didn’t say anything for several seconds, continuing to look at the herb as if that might somehow change the result.

  “What is it?” Cora asked. “When you ran off, you didn’t look at all well.”

  “Did something happen?” Emeline added. “Is it the people from the inn?”

  Sophia shook her head. “No, no, it’s nothing like that.”

  For the moment at least, she had forgotten all about the people who had tried to rob them, and all the other dangers of the road. Those didn’t matter, compared to this.

  “What is it then?” Emeline asked.

  Sophia took a breath. She wasn’t even sure that she could say it, because it was just too big.

  “I think…” she managed, “that I’m pregnant.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  Kate hadn’t thought that she would be able to see the blacksmith’s shop again, let alone rumble toward it with a cart filled with the swords and muskets of the enemies she’d defeated. That was what she was doing, though, because Lord Cranston had sent her with them for re-forging and for the steel to be used in armor plates. He’d also given her a pouch of coins: her share for fighting with the company. Kate had never been paid for working before. She’d always been indentured to be commanded, or an apprenticed there to learn.

  Will had his own small pouch of coins. He rode on the wagon with her, looking happy at the bonus, and at having come through the battle unscathed. Kate could see enough of his thoughts to know that wasn’t the only reason for his excitement. He was happy about going home, but also happy about being there with her. She sensed it every time he looked her way, staring at her as if he was seeing her for the first time.

  Kate liked those looks, and wished that there were time for more than looks. Perhaps there would be, later.

  For now, they rumbled through the outskirts of Ashton, to the spot where Thomas’s blacksmith’s shop sat. The smith must have seen them coming, because he was outside, and so was Winifred. Kate wasn’t surprised to see that they were smiling, because their son was coming home safely, but she was surprised that they both seemed happy that she was coming to them as well.

  “Will, Kate, you’re back!” Thomas said. Will leapt down and Kate waited while the smith and his wife swept up their son in a crushing hug. She was a little surprised when the three of them pulled her down to join them, folding her into a family embrace that she’d never experienced before.

  For practically the first time anywhere, she felt as though she belonged. She handed over the coins she’d earned to Thomas, knowing that he could use them more, and she could see Will doing the same. It seemed his parents wouldn’t be short of money anytime soon.

  “Come inside, both of you,” Winifred said. “There’s stew warming over the fire. I know Thomas will want you to help him melt down all those swords, but you’re not doing
it without some food inside of you.”

  Kate didn’t argue with that. She hadn’t eaten anything since the battle, because the sight of it had driven all appetite from her. Now, though, hunger came to her in a wave. Winifred showed her inside, and fussed over her while they ate. The transformation from the woman who had been so suspicious of her before was remarkable.

  As for Thomas, he seemed eager to hear all about what had happened.

  “You were fighting against an invading army?” he asked. “Not just raiders?”

  “An expeditionary force,” Kate said, trying to downplay it a little. She could see how worried Thomas was about them. He knew what soldiers went through, and if she started talking about the New Army or the Master of Crows, she suspected that would make it worse. “We managed to fight them off.”

  “Kate fought them off,” Will said. “The rest of us were pretty much spectators.”

  He sounded a little in awe of everything she’d done. Frankly, even Kate had been surprised that she was able to do it; however, she didn’t want to sound as though she was the hero of it all.

  “I didn’t do everything,” she said. She reached out for Will’s arm. “I’m pretty sure that I saw plenty of cannon fire going on.”

  She wasn’t just trying to make Will feel better, but to be fair, that was a big part of it. The rest of the company had played their part in the battle, and she wasn’t going to claim all of the credit in front of his parents.

  “Well,” Winifred said. “I’m just glad that the two of you are back in one piece. I couldn’t stand it if something happened to you.” She looked over to Kate. “Either of you.”

  Kate was a little surprised by how much that meant to her.

  They ate slowly, and as with her time in the forge, Kate found herself thinking about how wonderful it would be to have this forever. It was simple, peaceful, and quiet in a way that so much else in her life wasn’t. Would this be how things would have been if she hadn’t gone to the forest to learn to fight? If she hadn’t gone back to the House of the Unclaimed for her revenge?